


A Year in the Life of Temple Dance

by ObliviaSparkleberry



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan, The Trials of Apollo - Rick Riordan
Genre: Dance! AU, Everything I'm putting in here I learnt from Dance Academy when I was ten, F/F, F/M, Hilarious, I know crap about dance so, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-10
Updated: 2017-07-29
Packaged: 2018-11-12 07:27:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11157102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObliviaSparkleberry/pseuds/ObliviaSparkleberry
Summary: The gang goes to dance school and what ensues is hilarious, romantic and stupid.





	1. Roommates Are Mortifying (aka The First Day)

**Author's Note:**

> This is a bit of a weird format I guess, sorry if it's hard to read but it's just how I started writing this down. A bit random tbh, but enjoy!

Annabeth: The subway was hot; I rolled up the sleeves of my sweater and perched my rapidly fogging glasses on my head. I checked my phone, my wallet. I could feel the nerves getting to me. I just had to make sure the ticket was still in my wallet, I still had that map of Los Angeles, my phone was still 100% charged.  
At last the train reached my stop, and I headed up into the hazy blue of New York, with a bigger, longer journey ahead of me.

Percy: There was something wonderful about starting at dance school in a city with incredible beaches. I went for an early-morning surf to wake me up, and then headed back to the academy to unpack. I’d arrived the night before on a super-late flight and crashed straight into my generic boarding-school bed without even touching my suitcase (apart from brushing my teeth and all that normal stuff, obviously).  
I headed upstairs, had a quick shower and put on a noncommittal green t-shirt and soft blue jeans. My shiny new suitcase, bought especially for this trip, could barely hold all my clothes  
I’d been told that most of the other students would be arriving today, so maybe I’d get to meet my new roommate, Leo Valdez. I kicked my ancient, battered ballet bag under my bed and unpacked all my worldly goods into the small white chest of drawers next to my bed. I hung a few posters, uncool bands from the early 2000s and my idols, Ivan Vasiliev and Ethan Stiefel, on the sloping white walls. I hung up some strings of seashells from some of my holidays down on Long Island, put a blue blanket and some pillows on the bed. It felt a little like a home.

Annabeth: I meandered through JFK airport, occasionally checking my ticket to make sure I was headed to the right gate. Check-in had been fairly uneventful, except for the part when I forgot to take my watch off so the sensor machine beeped. After a few dirty looks from the security officials I was on my way.  
I found the gate quickly and sat down with my iced coffee from WHSmith and my phone. I updated Instagram, checked my friends’ profiles (more out of boredom than interest, and anyway, I'd found out they weren't the nicest people in the world).  
After a while my flight was called and boarding commenced. I headed down the weird tube thing into the plane, found my seat and pulled out my Kindle, ready for the flight.

Percy: Just as I’d finished unpacking, the door flew open with a bang and someone yelled something in rapid-fire Spanish. I turned around to see a scrawny Hispanic guy with wild, curly hair, an enormous grin, a slightly manic aura and a dance bag that was bigger than he was. I didn’t know a sound that loud could come from a human that tiny.  
“Yo,” said the guy in a surprisingly Texan accent. “Are you Percy Jackson?”  
“Sure am,” I smiled. “Who’s asking?”  
“Leo Valdez. Hip-hop.” Leo extended his skinny hand.  
“I'm a ballet guy myself,” I replied, shaking his hand. His fingers were always tapping, I noticed.  
“Ballet? Why aren't you wearing tights then?”  
“I usually only wear tights for rehearsal.” I couldn't help laughing. I was used to this. It happened every time I met someone new.  
Leo looked at me. “Dude, that's cool. It can't be easy.”  
I shrugged. “I don't mind, as long as I get to dance at the end of the day.”  
The tiny guy grinned and bumped my shoulder with his (despite having to stand on his toes to do so). “I like my roomie,” he announced. 

Annabeth: I descended the metal steps from the plane, onto the sizzling tarmac of the runway. Here I was in sunny California.  
It was too sunny. As soon as I got inside the airport, I got rid of the beanie and yanked off my sweater. Following the signs to the nearest taxi rank, I hailed a taxi and hopped in, hoping the driver knew where Temple Dance Academy was.  
“It's huge,” I told him. “You can't miss it.”

Percy: “Man, I'm starving,” said Leo after unpacking, echoing my thoughts exactly.  
“So am I,” I replied. “Hey, I saw a cafe across the street from the main entrance. You wanna get a bite to eat from there?”  
“Sure thing!” came the Spanish-Texan accented reply.  
So we headed downstairs and through the campus, past old and new buildings, until we reached the temple-like entrance to the school. We crossed the busy road and found a seat outside the cafe, enjoying the wonderful sunshine. As much as I loved New York, I had to admit the Los Angeles sun was much better.

Annabeth: The taxi dropped me off on the opposite side of the road from the Academy. I stepped out, grabbed my suitcase. I couldn't help but look around me, and when I did I saw two guys sitting at a cafe table not ten metres away. The one facing me was staring at me. He exchanged a few words with the other guy, who turned around and wolf-whistled.

Percy: I looked up from my (very good) sandwich to see a taxi pull up and a girl step out. She had a ponytail of glossy, curly blonde hair, enormous black sunnies and a look of total calm, I-know-what-I'm-doing collectedness. She looked around and spotted me staring at her. She didn't make a sign or turn away, she just stared right back.  
“Dude, watcha looking at?” Leo asked me.  
“She's beautiful,” I said dreamily.  
He turned around in his seat and spotted her. Of course he then wolf-whistled at her.  
The first lesson I learnt that day is that roommates are mortifying.

Annabeth: The guy staring at me is actually very attractive. He has a deep tan, shiny black hair and sea-green eyes you could spot from a mile away.  
I wondered if he was a student at Temple, but then mentally shook myself. I was here to study dance, not guys.  
I crossed the road and looked up at the Grecian temple-like facade of columns and unlit braziers. It was almost pretentious, but endearingly so. Through the entrance I could see every building, some state of the art, others old yet beautifully maintained. It looked like this was home for the next year at least.


	2. Hip-Hop Girls are Bitches (aka Meet Annabeth's Roommate)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Annabeth's ballerina roommate hates her because she's smart and does hip-hop. After a music war a surprisingly hot guy falls off a stack of chairs. The outcome is truly ridiculous.

Calypso: I pinned my hair into a perfect bun, slipped on a wraparound top and pulled a small tutu over my tights and leotard. I slung my ballet bag over my shoulder and headed out into the hallway, slamming the door behind me. My stupid hip-hop-girl roommate Annabeth had been blasting her music again. Well, she hadn't been blasting it exactly, it was more like I could just hear it through her headphones…

Still, it was incredibly annoying, just like her. Hip-hop girls are bitches.  
I thought of the two shiny, new pairs of pointe shoes in my bag. Just the notion of beautiful, expensive, new dancing shoes calmed me. They would need to be broken in though, so I'd wear my old, soft ones for now.

I headed up to the rehearsal building and quickly located my room, 4D. Each student had signed up for a room so they could have a place for regular rehearsals.  
It was a nice room, with clean white walls, a mirror covering one of the walls and glossy, honey coloured floorboards that had been freshly polished.  
I set up my CD player in the corner, put on my favourite Tchaikovsky, and began to dance.  
...

Leo: I was getting really in the zone with my hip-hop practice, just making it up as I went. That was the way I'd best learnt, through listening to the music and interpreting it my own way. I'd never been good at choreographing and remembering dances, I always did better when I could make it up.

My rehearsal room was enormous, almost studio sized. I think it was the same size as two ordinary rooms. I had plenty of room to move, and I used all the space. I probably made a huge ruckus for the person on the floor under me, because I was teaching myself a new acro-breakdance move and kept falling over. All in all, it was a pretty good rehearsal, until I could hear alternately very loud classical and hip-hop music coming from the floor above me.

...  
Calypso: There was a knock on my door. I turned my beloved Tchaikovsky off and opened the door. “Oh. It's you,” I sneered.

“Yes, it's me, and you're in my rehearsal room,” said Annabeth innocently. I was outraged.

“I think I would know if I was in the wrong room,” I glared at her. How dare she!

“Well, it says 4C next to the door,” she shot back, cool as a cat. “So if you would kindly pack up your stuff and leave, that would be great.”

I huffed and pushed past her to get out the door and check the number. Sure enough, it said 4C. I sighed, looked at Annabeth’s smug face. Of course she had to be right.  
She went into my - sorry, her - room, picked up my bag and CD player, and handed them to me with a friendly smile, slamming the door in my face.

I headed into the real room 4D, which was a piece of crap. The perfect shiny mirror was cracked down one side; the glossy, polished floorboards were scuffed and squeaky; and the white walls were smudged and had permanent-marker graffiti in one corner. Just great.

I turned up my music, moving on to The Firebird. The untz-untz coming from next door turned up too, so I turned up my music. Just as it reached the frenzied, enchanted dance, Annabeth’s volume rose too.

“I need to practice in here, you know, and I can’t really do that if all I can hear is your fluffy ballet music!” came the supremely annoyed voice.

“Well, I can’t think straight when I have to listen to your stupid rap music!” I called back.

“Rap music is a gift from the gods!” She yelled.

I turned Stravinsky right up to the max, and the repetitive, synthesised beat ramped up too. We were both blasting music, completely opposing styles, when there was a banging from the ceiling below. The feeling thudded through my feet - it must have been someone strong.

A slightly accented Texan twang called from below, “Hey, turn it down, would you? Some of us are trying to dance here.”

Then, from the next room, Annabeth hollered, “Sorry, mate. It’s just ballet girl here won’t turn her pretty girly crap down,” as she stamped on the floor.

There was a surprisingly high-pitched scream from below me and a clamorous bang, clatter, thump. The voice groaned and all I could think to do was to get down there.   
...

Leo: I had climbed up on a tall stack of chairs in one corner in order to bang on the ceiling. I’d thought it would get their attention, and it obviously had, because one voice yelled back, something about girly crap? I assumed that must have been the hip-hop girl.

Anyway, I was banging on the ceiling and yelling at them when suddenly the enormous stack of chairs gave way under me and I clattered to the floor, shocked yet totally unscathed as far as I could tell. Although one finger had been bent back, which caused me to produce an overdramatic groan. I heard faint gasps and then pounding footsteps that shook the ceiling.

I waited until I could hear them right outside the door before closing my eyes and groaning in fake agony again. Being my nosy self, I just had to find out what was up with these two.

Calypso: I dashed out of the rehearsal room with Annabeth close behind me. “He might be really badly hurt,” I said, suddenly really worried. I didn’t know any First Aid or anything.

“He’ll be okay,” said Annabeth. “I’ve done a First Aid course. We had to do them at school last year.”

“Oh, thank god. I hope he’s not badly hurt.”

“We should just check on him and then go and get one of the medical team. In the orientation thing they said there’s a medical office and a sickbay near the entrance to the building.”

“Okay,” I replied. I was starting to get over this girl’s annoying smart-alec personality. She was incredibly clear-headed under pressure, and maybe we could learn to get along.

We arrived at the door and crashed it open. A small, scrawny guy was lying on the floor in one corner, under a haphazard pile of chairs. 

“Okay,” said Annabeth. “He looks like he might be unconscious, but tap him on the shoulder, ask him what happened. I'll see if I can find someone to stay here with you, if you want.” 

I nodded. “That’s probably a good idea.”  
...

Leo: Two girls had crashed into my room. I opened one eye, hopefully inconspicuously. One was blonde and had a hipster Brooklyn accent, and the other? Damn, was she hot. She had pale skin peppered with freckles, shiny strawberry blonde hair and a British accent. She also looked slightly hysterical. The other girl stepped outside the room to get a medic to help us out.

“Um...are you okay?” asked the girl, poking me tentatively on the shoulder. I wanted so badly to snort or laugh but I didn’t, because I wanted to keep up my pretence of unconsciousness. 

I opened my eye a crack. She was taking a deep breath, getting focused. “I’m Calypso. If you’re awake, can you just move a little? Don’t worry, my friend is getting one of the medics. Do you think you’ll be okay?”

I opened both my eyes properly then, and nodded. Her face was right above mine, her brow creased slightly.   
“Dang,” I couldn’t help muttering under my breath. She had enormous, almondine brown eyes, a snub nose and she smelled like cinnamon and cookies. The look of concern on her face was endearing, but also kind of worrying.

“Oh, thank god you’re awake. What happened? Where does it hurt? Don’t worry -”  
“Will you go out with me?” I asked impulsively, regretting it immediately. Calypso collapsed into borderline hysterical giggles, snorting and crying, rocking on the floor.  
…

Calypso: I had been sitting in the corner of that enormous practice room (it should have been a studio, seriously), frantically trying to get the guy to wake up. Annabeth had gone to get one of the medics and told me to see if he was awake and ask what had happened.

I had poked him and he opened his eyes. They were chocolatey brown with the slightest hint of green around the edges. I think you could sink into them like quicksand if you weren't careful. Despite being scrawny and miniature, he was actually hot.

So that was why I couldn’t stop laughing when he asked me out. It was hilarious. Here he was, with a blood nose and possible concussion, and he asked if I wanted to go out with him in this dazed voice. He wasn’t a regulation hottie, but there was something about his crazy tar-black curls that made me want to say yes.


	3. The Fools Who Game (aka Everybody Finally Meets, Kind Of) Pt. 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason and Piper meet over MarioKart, Hazel is a Smol Bean and Nico makes an unwitting Mean Girls reference.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey...so I wrote too much and decided to publish half now and finish the other half and make it part 2? Don't mind me, just being my confusing self.

Jason: I glanced into the newly renovated common room. It was fit to bursting with all forty first-years on the level, all chatting and laughing and, in some cases, attempting to practice a dance. It was actually a ridiculous sight, and did not appeal. I sighed in defeat. If the only place I could hang out was my dorm, this was not going to be a fun year. 

I heard voices in the hallway behind me. A girl was heading down the hall in the opposite direction, which made me remember - there was another common room on this floor. I followed her down the passage and into the not-nearly-as-nice room. It was still functional, but there was a crack down one side of the TV screen, graffiti in one corner and some of the floorboards had lost their varnish. It actually had a better sense of community than the other room, and it certainly smelt better.

The girl I’d followed to find the common room was sitting in a corner, reading a book on architecture. There was a short Hispanic guy in the kitchenette, standing next to a working microwave. A girl and a guy were playing MarioKart on the cracked TV, shouting insults at each other over the sound effects. A girl who looked Latino, Puerto Rican perhaps, was leaning against one wall, scowling at her phone and nodding her head to the beat in her headphones.

I sat down on an inviting-looking beanbag in one corner and opened my laptop. I hadn’t checked my emails since arriving at the Academy - it had been so hectic and I’d wanted to make sure I knew where everything was. Plus, my roommate, Nico, needed some social interaction. He spent so much time practicing and studying (it was technically still summer! School hadn’t even started yet!) that I felt he needed to go somewhere interesting.

The microwave in the corner had begun to beep rapidly. I looked up to see a blue explosion that looked a little like lightning inside the microwave. The Hispanic guy yelped and leapt backwards with a sheepish look on his face. 

“I think I broke the microwave,” he turned to me. 

I couldn’t help but laugh. “I reckon you’re right. Good job, dude.”

He grinned a manic grin. “Thanks, bro. You wanna help me fix it? I just forgot to take the fork out of the microwave popcorn before I put it in, that’s all.”

“Nah, I’ll leave the maker of the mess to that,” I laughed and headed over to the MarioKart players in the middle of the room.

“Hey,” the girl looked up and grinned. “You wanna play?”

The guy handed me his remote and I took his place on the squashy sofa. We started to play and he yelled at me good-naturedly when I put on Rainbow Road.

I grinned back at him and said, “Well, I would say you’re a cheat, you dirty button-masher.”

The girl hollered, “Button-mashing is the only way to win against a precise, experienced, annoying player like you!”

I spent the rest of the game laughing and only just won, by a little bit. The girl turned to me and shook my hand. “Good game!” she had a perfect grin. “I’m Piper, by the way. And this is Percy. He’s so rude he never remembers to introduce himself. When I met him the other day he just asked for my name and never gave me his. So rude.”

“Hey!” said Percy, and slugged her on the arm. She rubbed his head with her fist in retaliation.

The Hispanic guy bounced over with a bowl of popcorn, which was what he’d presumably been heating in the microwave.

“I’m Leo. I like you. You can stay. What’s your name again?”

“Jason. Jason Grace,” I said, extending my hand. Piper slapped in it a strange, horizontal high-five. Not what I intended, but it kind of worked. She was ever so slightly shorter than me, and I looked down into incredible rainbow-coloured eyes. She blinked and looked a little dazed, but shook her head slightly and sat back down on the couch. 

“Right,” she said. “Leo, it’s time for you to play against Jason. We need to see who’s the master.”  
Why did that evil grin worry me?

…

Piper: This new guy was so cute. He wandered in soon after Annabeth arrived, talked to Leo and then just started playing MarioKart with us. He was amazing at it, and beat me at Rainbow Road. Me, the queen of Rainbow Road!

And when he won, that slight smirk on his tanned face and the small scar on his lip and a glint in his incredible blue eyes and his slightly-too-long corn-silk hair sticking up every which way…  
Okay, I was in love. Jason Grace. I wondered what he danced? Where he was from? 

I was watching him play against Leo - seriously, hilarious stuff - but I couldn’t concentrate on my usual ridiculous insults. I had to go tell Hazel!

I made a quick excuse and ran back to the dorm. When I walked in, Hazel was sitting at her desk by the window, sewing away on her machine. She made a lot of her own clothes, and was an incredible seamstress, as I'd discovered after only a few days at Temple.

She held up what looked like half a blouse. “What do you think? I've finally found a use for that old bit of Liberty print!”

“It's great, Hazel-nut,” I told her. It was. The print was on a gold background, with jewel-bright flowers curling their way across the material. I knew it would suit Hazel beautifully.

“I need to tell you something,” I said to Hazel.

She looked up, brow furrowing. The dorm was oddly quiet without the hum of the machine. “What is it?”

I took a deep breath. Even after only a few days sharing a room with this girl, I trusted her. “There's a guy.”

My roommate squealed and said in her adorable New Orleans accent, “But that's great, sugar! Why d’you look so worried about it?” she crossed the room, practically leaping, and wrapped me in a surprisingly strong hug for her diminutive size.

I couldn't help but feel all warm and fuzzy with this cinnamon roll looking up at me concernedly.  
“I dunno, Hazel-nut. It's just… he's like All-American Boy and I'm the girl who shoplifts because her dad’s too busy being an actor to notice her.”

“Wait...you stole a car? And your dad’s an actor?”

“I’ve dropped myself in it now, haven’t I?” I saw her face. It was obvious she wanted to know more. “Tristan McLean,” I blurted. “I didn’t want to tell anyone because I hate name-dropping.”

 

“It’s not name-dropping if you’re not doing it to get anything,” she told me. “What about the car?”

I grinned. “I was 14 and my dad was on set, filming for some movie I’d hated the idea of. I was bored. Got 100 hours community service. One day I was picking up litter in this fancy park in Beverly Hills and all dad’s celebrity friends kept coming past, asking if I wanted them to save me. It was worth it just for that.”

She looked up at me earnestly. That dark face with its cloud of ginger curls could make anyone feel comfortable.

“Opposites attract, you know,” she said softly. “You can never predict what will happen next.”  
I laughed and wrote those jewels of wisdom down to stick up by my bed.

…

Jason: I played Leo on MarioKart, and lost by heaps. It was actually hilarious, really. Leo was the king.

And Piper. From a distance, she looked like a pinup. But up close, I had noticed a faint gravy stain on her yellow shirt, a small hole on the knee of her jeans, her nails were chipped and bitten. She didn't care, and it was beautiful.

I headed off for a quick practice - being an acro dancer was high-maintenance, even before classes had started - and came back to my dorm and had a shower. When I hopped out, Nico was lying on his stomach on his bed, playing Zelda on his iPad.

He looked up. “You look...different.”

I raised one eyebrow. “How so?”

He grinned cheekily. “You look like you’re in love.”

“Seriously, dude? How would you know, anyway?”

“I have my ways,” he shrugged, and added, “So who is it?”

I caved. “Her name is Piper. She was in the common room with a bunch of guys, just chatting and laughing and playing video games. She’s like...a goddess.” A ratty, careless one.

“Ah,” Nico raised one eyebrow. “Does she feel the same?”

“Dude, I don’t know, do I?” I felt my face starting to heat up. It would be best to change the subject. “Any girls for you?”

He let out a single, loud laugh. “Me? I’m too gay to function!”

“Nice reference there,” I replied.

Nico frowned. “I’m sorry?”

“Wait. You haven’t seen Mean Girls?”

He shook his head. I let out a long whistle. “Dude…You. Have. Not. Lived.”


	4. The Fools Who Game (Everyone Finally Meets, Kind Of) Pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Roof Scene™ where they may or may not kiss...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey!  
> Please enjoy & I'm sorry, I won't be uploading for a couple weeks as I'm going on holiday!!!

Piper: It was so hot inside the dorm room. I’d tried kicking off my blankets and drinking some water, but I kept gettin hotter. I padded as softly as I could over to the window tried to open it. Try as I might, I couldn't budge it. Great.

I went back to bed and tried to sleep, and soon realised I was hungry. Ugh, even better. I didn't want to open the fridge in our room because it squeaked incredibly loudly and I didn't want to wake Hazel. I remembered the pizza I had left in the common room fridge from a couple nights ago. I could go and get some of that…

I tiptoed down the hall and pushed open the door of the common room. The fridge was already open and there was a tall, lean shape silhouetted in the light. I knew that shape…

“Jason!” I realised.

He turned to me. “Ssh. We don't want to get an in-school suspension before classes have even started, do we?”

I shook my head, embarrassed, and then noticed what he was eating.

“Hey!” I hissed. “That's my pizza you're stealing.”

He shrugged. “If it's left in the common room, it's fair game.”

I rolled my eyes and stepped further into the radius of cool that the fridge gave out.

“It's hot, isn't it?” he whispered. 

I nodded. “I can't sleep.”

He made a motion, like, follow me. I did.

We walked down the hall a little way and stopped outside what was presumably his room. He stepped inside and came out a few moments later with a soft grey rug.

Jason grabbed my hand and dragged me down to the fire exit. He opened the door quietly and we stepped out into the fire escape. He climbed over the edge onto the top of the building that was sandwiched next to the dorm building and beckoned for me to follow. I climbed over too, and joined him on the roof of what I later found out to be the costume and wardrobe building. The air was wonderfully cold after the fug of the dorm building.

…

Jason: I’d somehow found myself on the roof of the costume building with Piper. Why, I didn't know. But what I did know was that we had cold pizza and an incredibly soft, warm rug, and all the stars were out. It was an odd way to get to know somebody, sure, but…

We sat down on the flat roof, and I wrapped the blanket around our shoulders. Piper grabbed a slice of Hawaiian from the box and took a bite.

“All the stars are out,” she said softly, and pointed to a constellation directly above us. “Look. Orion!”

I turned my face upwards, and saw a random collection of stars. “I don't see anything.” 

“See the three big stars in the middle? They're his belt. If you can spot that, the rest of him is pretty obvious.”

We stayed like that for a while, just star-spotting and eating leftover pizza, and I realised how smart and interesting Piper was. “How do you know all this?” I asked her.

She hesitated for a moment, but then, “My dad. His name is Tristan McLean -”

“No way!” I said. “Like, the Tristan McLean? As in Star Warrior Tristan McLean?”

“Yep,” she sighed. “He's away on set and at premieres so much, we never have any time to spend together. So I help him research for his movies. We learnt all the constellations together for Star Warrior.”

…

Piper: “That's so cool,” Jason said. “You know, my mum was a Hollywood star, years ago. After she had me and my sister, she got kinda out of control. She died, one night…I’ll never forget Thalia’s face.”

“Oh,” I said. “I'm sorry.”

“Don't be,” he put his arm around me, and it felt like the most natural thing in the world. “It's not your fault.”

“Who's Thalia?” I wondered aloud.

“Ah,” he laughed. “I never told you? She's my twin sister. She's here, you know. You’be probably seen her around, but you wouldn't have recognised her. We’re complete opposites.”

I hummed and sat in silence for a while.

“My turn to ask a question,” he grinned. “Where are you from? Who's your mum?”

“Not fair! That's two!” I shot back, nudging him. “My dad's Cherokee. That's how I grew up. I never knew my mum, but my dad said she was the most beautiful girl in the world.”

“My dad vanished without a trace soon after Thals and I were born,” he replied. “Somehow we ended up in a massive foster home in Frisco. It was awesome. This lady we all called Auntie Artemis had fostered us all, mostly girls. She was the most fun person you could ever know.”  
He laughed - a loud, raucous one that floated over the rooftops and down into the still-bustling streets of LA, past the Hollywood sign, into the hills. 

“Where's that scar in your lip from? If you were as happy as your description of your foster home is, I assume you didn't get into fights…”

“I tried to eat a stapler when I was two,” he laughed again.

I reached up to touch the scar. “It's...smooth,” I whispered. He nodded and brushed a strand of hair away from my face. And then -

Two worlds, two pairs of lips collided as the stars swirled around us and inside us, and I'd never felt safer.


	5. Cinnamon Everything (aka The Speakeasy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Temple Dance Speakeasy opens, and Frank spills a girl's hot chocolate all over her dress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been forever since I've uploaded! School's just started again and everything's been busy and ugh. Thanks to my sister @iamprongsie for telling me what to write and helping me plan the next few chapters. Anyway, enjoy Frazel!

Hazel: I smoothed my dress nervously, feeling the intricate sequins and beads under my fingers. It was the official student opening of the old, restored speakeasy, and I'd put my name down to sing at it for the live entertainment. Why, Hazel?

As I began to panic, I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned around to see Piper’s smiling brown face, hair in her bright eyes.

“You look great,” she said calmly, reassuringly, “I know you can do it. You'll be amazing!”

I couldn't help but smile. “Thanks, Pipes.”

“Anytime, Hazel-nut.”

...

Frank: The speakeasy was a building made of golden stone, carved into intricate geometric patterns. It was astonishing really. I'd seen the building pre-restoration when I'd come for my tour and interview, and the fact that this had been done over the summer combined with the sheer size and beauty of the building made it all the more amazing.

There was a sudden crackling from the microphone and a screech of feedback, and the crowd of chattering dance students soon fell silent.

“Welcome, students, to the grand opening of the Temple Dance Academy speakeasy!” It was the vice principal, Mr Brunner, known to most as Chiron. Why? Who knew. “In 1920s America, alcohol was banned. Speakeasies were secret bars that still served alcohol. They were a place to relax, let your hair down. We hope this will be the same, only without the alcohol   
of course!” The last comment earned a laugh.

“Students of Temple, I present to you...The Trojan Horse!” And with that, Chiron cut the ribbon and the students surged inside.

…

Hazel: The inside of the speakeasy was beautiful. Wood-panelled walls; rich, dark-coloured floorboards that still squeaked softly from the polish; chairs and bar stools upholstered in wine-coloured velvet. The bar along one wall was filled innumerable ingredients for hot drinks and milkshakes and there was a huge display case with donuts and cupcakes. It was heaven for starving dance students who had only eaten low-fat canteen food all day. 

Piper nudged me and grinned. “You fit right in with that outfit.”

I glanced down at my homemade flapper dress and shining T-bar heels and couldn't help feeling that maybe I did.

“You ready?” she asked.

I nodded slowly. I had nothing to lose. “Ready.”

She tweaked a strand of my wild hair back in place, handed me a stick of red lipstick and took a seat at the milkshake bar. “Go. Be the jazz queen.”

I heard the distinctive sound of sharp scissors cutting through expensive ribbon. Time to start! Rushing to the small stage in the corner, I hit the button on the speakers, grabbed the mic and began to sing my favourite jazz song.

...

Frank: I was one of the first to enter the Trojan Horse. There was already a girl seated at the bar, chin on her hand, a pink milkshake next to her. A waiter dressed in black and white was icing cupcakes behind the counter.

Soft waves of smooth jazz circled the room, and on a small stage in the corner a diminutive girl sang along, her voice so perfect it seemed to be just another instrument in the backing. I vaguely recognised her from my jazz class, and US History.

I wandered over to a display case through a slough of students. The cupcakes and donuts looked incredible. I ordered a small cup of donut holes and glanced around the room, trying to spot anyone I knew.

...

Hazel: I finished my set and hopped off the stage to applause from the people seated in the weathered, brown leather armchairs near the stage. The atmosphere in the room was electric now, after a week of dance lessons and now a place to relax afterwards. 

“I got you a drink,” said a familiar voice behind me. I turned to see Piper standing there, holding out a mug of something hot. The aroma wafting off of it could only be one thing -

“Cinnamon hot chocolate,” I sighed dreamily.

“Take it, then, dummy!”

I thanked her and took a sip. It was the best I'd ever tasted. “This place is incredible.”

She laughed. “It sure is! Hey, I've gotta go to the loo. I'll be right back!”

Piper dashed across the room and through the doorway marked ‘Restrooms.’ I was heading over to take a seat at the bar when a tall, muscular guy lumbered up and bumped into me, causing me to spill my drink down the front of my beaded dress.

“Oh, I'm so sorry, I'm so clumsy!” he said, grabbing a handful of napkins from the counter. The waiter glared at him but he didn't notice as he was frantically dabbing at the stain on my dress. 

“It's ok,” I lifted his hand off. “I'm something of a klutz myself, so I've found a way to get hot chocolate out of the most precious of clothing.”

“I could pay for dry cleaning -”

“It's fine,” I cut in, smiling. “Really.”

He sighed. “Ok. At least let me get you another drink. What was it? Hot chocolate?”

“With cinnamon. But really, you don't have to -” 

But he was already at the counter, ordering one. I took the opportunity to wipe some more chocolate off my dress and smooth my ruffled hair.

After a minute or two he came back, hands full with a mug of hot chocolate and a plate with a cake on it.

“I got you something extra as well,” he said, smiling shyly. “A cinnamon roll. Figured you liked cinnamon.”

“Thanks, but you didn't have to…”

He shrugged. “I wanted to.”

“It's my favourite.”

“Cinnamon everything, huh?”

“Yes. Well, thank you, umm…”

“Frank. Frank Zhang.”

“Oh. I'm Hazel Levesque.”

“Nice to meet you, Hazel,” he said, taking a seat at the bar and patting the stool beside him. “Sit. Tell me about yourself.”

I sat next to him, shrugging. “Not much to tell, really. My mum was a mystic in New Orleans. I moved here a couple of years ago, when my dad won a huge custody battle for me and my brother. I grew up dancing jazz and swing. Came here, and here we are. How about you?”

“I'm Canadian,” he started. “Jazz and tap. I've got a mum in the army in Afghanistan and a grandma back home, plus a whole heap of half siblings and a dad I never knew.”

I leaned against the bar. “So basically, two totally different yet equally crappy lives meet in a twenties-style bar?”

“You sound like the back of a chick novel,” he laughed. “And life's been okay so far. My grandma’s great. And my mum taught me archery, when she was on leave. I've grown up with hockey mates and friends from dance.”

I nodded. “I didn't really know anyone in New Orleans. My brother was in foster care and I...guess I just had mum. I didn't get out much, except on Mardi Gras…”

…

Frank: Hazel spaced out for a second, dreaming, remembering. I knew the feeling.

It was strange, really. I was having a deep conversation with a girl I'd just met, a girl I'd only glimpsed in jazz class, on the stage in the corner. There was just something about her that made me want to tell her everything: the tears when mum left to fight, the joy when she came home. My worries about grandma, about her age. The way I'd been bullied for dancing. Hazel was like a little flake of gold among the coal, like my mum, like my grandma.

“What's your mum’s name?” she broke the silence.

“Emily.”

“Emily Zhang…she was on the news! A big medal, a few years ago. She's incredible.”

We talked like this for the rest of the night, her in a chocolate-covered beaded dress, me in a too small t-shirt and jeans. And after most people had left that night, and the only people left were a small boy playing the piano softly in the corner and a girl practicing a dance on the polished floor, she wrapped her arms around me. 

“Frank…” And then she pressed a quick kiss to my lips and said, “We should get back. Curfew is soon.”

“Let's go then,” I said, taking her hand. 

She looked up at me seriously. “Do you…”

I nodded and gave her my best bear hug.

…

I arrived back at my room, having left Hazel at hers. Her roommate had been making strange faces at us, and I guess she’d figured it out. I opened the door and plopped down on my bed. It was midnight - curfew. We’d got back just in time. 

I heard the toilet flush and my roommate Will came out of the bathroom. 

“So?” he asked. “What happened?”

“What do you mean, what happened?” I asked, feigning innocence.

He sat down on my bed and began poking me repeatedly. “So? So? So? So? So?”

“What do you want, Will?”

“Come on, Frankie. You spent literally the whole night making heart eyes at a girl. If you won’t tell me, I’ll have to worm it out of you somehow.”

“Ugh, fine,” I said. “Her name is Hazel, she’s in my Jazz and US History classes, I spilt her hot chocolate all over her dress. Now can I go to bed?”

“You what?” 

“I spilt her hot chocolate on her dress. I bumped into her by accident, okay? Don’t be a dick about it, please.”

Will laughed for a minute or two. “Teddy bear,” he managed to force out between chuckles. He was right really. I was...something of a pudgy kid, and I still haven’t grown into the muscles that I’ve built up with dance, hockey and archery.

“Anyway,” Will said, hiccuping, “Did anything happen?”

I shrugged. “Kind of. I don’t know. Her roommate was making strange faces at us when I left her at her room.”

This sent Will into another laughing fit. I groaned, buried my face in my pillow and mumbled, “I’m going to sleep.”


End file.
